Chapter Four
The town clock was striking noon when they left the parlor where Mima and her new husband had met with their fathers. “What do you wish to do now?” Pel asked. “Would you like to go directly home, or is there someone or somewhere you’d like to visit on the way?”
Home. Harwood Abbey. Mima had never been to the enemy stronghold, but she had grown up hearing horror stories about the place. All nonsense, her adult mind told her, but it was odd to hear it called home.
Before she could answer, though, she heard someone shout from the foyer at the foot of the stairs they were currently descending.
“They’re coming!”
And when they passed the landing and could see the crowd waiting for them, they found the group of cousins and friends had expanded. They were absorbed into a crowd who wanted to congratulate Pel and give Mima their best wishes.
“We all sent for our friends,” Martin explained.
“Yes,” said his sister Bella. “We—” she gestured to someone Mima didn’t know, who looked enough like Pel to be a sister—“think that the two of you need friends around you. Mima, this is Lady Beryl, your sister-in-law. Berry, meet Lady Jemima.”
Beryl, a cheerful girl just old enough to put her hair up and her hems down, laughed. “I know, Lady Jemima is my sister-in-law. Call me Berry, Mima. Everyone in the family does. At least everyone under the age of thirty.”
Pel gave his sister a one-armed hug. “Merry Berry, we call this rattle, Mima, but she isn’t dreadful.”
“Not dreadful,” shrieked Berry. “I am your favorite sister!”
Pel, in a stage whisper, told the crowd, “Each of them is my favorite sister.”
“See,” said Brant, to one of the other Ruthermonds. “He is quite normal, even if he is a Townswell.”
“We can hear you,” remarked one of the Townswells Mima had not yet met, but he said it with a grin, and those around him laughed. Perhaps, after all, it was going to work out.
“Pel,” said Berry, “we have all decided to take the bride and groom home the traditional way. The carriage is ready, and the band is waiting.” She lifted her chin as if ready for an argument, but Pel turned to Mima.
“What do you think?” he said.
“You are all coming as our escort?” Mima asked.
In their part of the country, it was traditional, when people married, for the bride and groom to be escorted to their marital home in a flower-bedecked carriage, with a procession comprising as many young men and women as could be found, and a band to provide musical accompaniment to their progress.
What a good way to start their campaign to show that neither the Ruthermonds nor the Townswells were devils, and that they could be neighbors, if not friends.
Then the women crowned Mima with a flower coronet and draped flower garlands around her neck. They lifted her onto their shoulders, and—laughing and singing—carried her out to the awaiting open carriage, which could hardly be seen for flowers and ribbons.
The men did likewise for Pel, and the couple were soon reunited on the seat of the carriage. The horses, too, were flower bedecked, and the crowd that gathered around the carriage were all dressed in their finest clothes.
The bandsmen struck up a cheerful tune on flutes, several keyed bugles, another two brass instruments of a lower pitch, a lone clarinet, two, several drums in different sizes, and a jiggling johnny—a conical instrument covered in jingles and bells.
“Here we go,” said Martin, who was on the driver’s perch. “You Townswells will have to direct me, for I’ll be lost once we leave Coombe on your road out of town.”
The band was playing a familiar song, and soon many voices were roaring, with varying degrees of musicality, the words of “Believe me if all those endearing young charms.”
It was a fit song for young lovers just starting their lives together. Did Mima and Pel count as young lovers? Mima devoutly hopes that the song was a prophecy, and with that in mind, she joined in the last four lines of the second verse.
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.
The band struck up another song, “When She Held Me in Her Arms.” This one, too, was optimistic, speaking of love at first sight, and a lover that twenty years later had never regretted it for a day.
The townspeople were turning out, crowding the sides of the road or standing in the doorways of shops, waving and shouting their good wishes. Some children ran alongside them, joining in the singing. Several women called out things like, “Bless them, the dear couple.”
They left the shops behind, and the band moved on to the slightly naughty “Sweet Nightingale” followed by “I Will Give My Love an Apple,” which was a riddle song, as they passed the cottages and then the larger houses of the gentry set in their pretty gardens.
People continued to respond to the music by coming to see what was happening, and some of them asked questions, which were answered by members of the happy group dancing along ahead of, behind, and on both sides of the carriage.
Mima couldn’t hear either the questions or the answers they received, but invariably, these exchanges ended with the onlookers shouting their congratulations and best wishes, and watching the procession on its way with broad grins that spoke volumes about how much the townspeople wanted peace.
Keldwood Cross was a thirty-minute walk from Coombe, and all the way, the band played, their escorts sang, and Mima sat with her hand in Pel’s, feeling increasingly hopeful about the peace.
Even once they entered Harwood lands, the reaction they received was entirely positive, as people came running from cottages and manors to express their joy at the match and their hopes that the feud was now over.
“Norcross would be gnashing his teeth if he could see this,” Pel said. “I thought he might be at the wedding, though after his effort to cause trouble last night failed, perhaps he decided it was better to stay at home.”
“I was surprised Uncle Edwin did not attend,” Mima commented. “I thought he would be there, repeating that this marriage was sure to bring about peace, but in a mournful tone that made it seem he thought peace was doomed.”
“I shall enjoy seeing his face when we prove him wrong,” said Pel.
Even at Harwood Abbey, they were warmly welcomed.
The servants stood on the steps to pay their respects to the newlyweds, and Father—whose carriage had passed them on the road—invited the crowd inside, “For with all the singing you have been doing, my young friends, you must have worked up a considerable thirst.”
Clay was conspicuous by his absence, but several of the older cousins and other more distant relatives put in an appearance, looking a little bemused at the way the younger Townswells and Ruthermonds were cheerfully mingling.
Indeed, Mima strongly suspected several more cross-river romances might be in the making.
It was midafternoon by the time they farewelled their guests from the main steps, after arranging a meeting time and place with those who were joining them for the first visits tomorrow.
“May I show you to our chambers?” Pel asked. “You must wish to freshen up.”
Pel had three other sisters, all younger than Berry, who whispered to one another and giggled.
Berry, who was standing with them, gave the nearest a push on the shoulder.
“What do you know about marital duties, you naughty girls? Do you need me to ask your governess to set extra work? Back to the schoolroom with you all.”
She cast Mima an apologetic look as she chased the other three inside. Pel, looking sheepish, said, “I apologize for my sisters. I daresay the maids have been gossiping where they could hear.”
Mima was confused. What had they said that was naughty?
Mama had taught her that her duty as a wife would be to submit to her husband and obey him, and to take responsibility for making sure their house was pleasant, clean, and well run.
When children came, she would also be responsible for their care and training.
Yet Pel was red to his ears, and wouldn’t meet her eyes. There must be something she was missing.
“I should like to freshen up,” she told her husband.
Her new father-in-law stopped them as they went back through the entry hall. “Jemima, my dear, thank you for today. I feel more hopeful about the peace. Pel, I am a little concerned about Clay. No one has seen him since part way through yesterday.”
“I am certain he will come home when he is sober, Father,” Pel said. “Mima and I are going to our chambers, now. We shall not join the family for dinner. It has been a tiring few days.”
But it was only the middle of the afternoon. Even if Pel was tired, he could just lie down for a while, and then they could come down to dinner. Perhaps he wanted some private time with Mima.
In fact, that was a good idea. A quiet afternoon and evening with just the two of them! Yes, that would be perfect, for she had to admit, meeting so many people, even if the vast majority of them were nice to her, was very tiring.
Perhaps they could have a game of cards or chess. Reading together would be nice, too.
But Pel had something else in mind, though it took Mima some time to find out what, and even longer to be certain he was not making things up to tease her.
The suite of rooms was at one end of the easternmost wing of the mansion.
It was full of servants—there must have been at least a dozen.
Some were carrying water for a bath, others turning down the bed, and still more laying out a cold collation, “In case you become hungry, my lady and my lord,” said the woman who appeared to be in charge.
Pel seemed to be in a hurry to dismiss them all, including his own valet and Mima’s maid. “We shall help one another with anything we cannot do ourselves,” he said, firmly. “Do not disturb us until we ring for you.”